"Breathe at this phial," said Winifred. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do.
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