CHAPTER XX. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. He struck out from the shoulder, and the man measured his length upon the pavement. .
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