" "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. Tell me how are you amusing yourself?” Anna laughed. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. With some difficulty, they managed to negotiate the passage with their burden and carry him out into the library. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. T' other gen'l'man said the letter 'ud explain all.
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