"What is it?" "The night," she answered. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues.
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