” They heard a man’s voice outside. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. Here he obtained some breakfast, and mounting the hill turned off into the fields on the right. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold.
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