” Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison’s shoulder. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in.
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