The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. "But I'll yet disappoint you. "It is droll," he said. " "Not in the least, Sir," replied Tom, in a drowsy tone, and with a look seeming to imply that he was too much accustomed to odd noises at night to heed them. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. It’s these damned novels.
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