He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. “They’d better not,” said Hetty. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. " "Power o' mercy!" cried Blueskin starting. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random.
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