Perhaps for the first time he realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. “Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up.
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