Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. “That’s what you’re going to wear. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Not enough of them to make a difference. She shook her head.
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