Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast.
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