‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. ” “You’d like to do that?” “Exactly.
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