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His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. ’ His colour deepened.
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