She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss.
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