Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. Fate! You are so frank so splendid! “I’m taking this calmly now,” he said, almost as if he apologized, “because I’m a little stunned.
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