Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. Certainly I would not murder monsieur le major, even that he has made a threat to beat me. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner.
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