The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. People running, screaming, hiding. Things you would laugh at. "Damnation!" cried Kneebone.
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