“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. “It’s like the Picture and the Bust. The visitor was the hotel manager, who respectfully announced that the doctor was ready for her. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. I want to know who sent you those. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate.
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