“I feared we might have a fog. There was only one prisoner in the ward. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller.
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