"But you will tell me where you live, where I can find you?" interrupted

Lord Sutcombe.

Mr. Clendon smiled, gravely. "I think not, Talbot. To tell you the

truth, I am so enamoured of this life of mine, of its solitude and

independence, that I cannot run the risk of having it broken in upon.

Good-bye. Don't bear me ill-will. And don't be afraid. I am going back

to the grave again."

The Marquess stretched out his hand, as if to detain him; but, with a

gesture, full of dignity and command, as well as imploration, the bent

figure passed out.

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