"Rowland," she said, in a faint voice, "I have not many minutes to live. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. ‘For my money, you’ll not get much out of old Jarvis either. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six.
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