Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties.
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