“Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. ’ She sighed. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. "Thank you; but I've a pocket full of water-chestnuts. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased.
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