We men are like children. Down in my part of the world it's all a man has to go by. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her.
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