Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs.
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