A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. ” She relented. I am sorry to seem to disobey you, but I am. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. . Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. ” She nodded. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. The visitor was the hotel manager, who respectfully announced that the doctor was ready for her. CHAPTER XVII. ‘I live in Kent.
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