His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. That would be fun, eh?" "I wonder if you know how kind you are? You are like somebody out of a book. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. Luckily I’m not. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down.
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