” “You know, Mr. The manservant shall bring your trunks in and pay the fare too, if you like. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. So he marched into the street, primarily bent upon making the favourable discovery. ” “Rather! But I wonder why you don’t mean it?” “Because, I suppose, the other thing is better. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him.
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