After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. Oh, you must believe me. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. Wood in the deepest mourning. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them.
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