Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. It doesn't look bad, does it?" "Mercy, no! That wasn't the thought. Cut it as short as you can. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room.
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