During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. ‘There is no question of a dispute. " "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. Ah, no, I have it wrong.
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