Do sit down, dear boy. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. . " "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. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. Then pain entered their depths. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled.
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