He laughed suddenly, and released her. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. The man lingered. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive.
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