He broke his arms in two places and several bones in his right hand. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. He has a grand time. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. It's a bad omen to be thrown near that door.
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