” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. ’ A little sigh escaped her. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. “Indeed!” Anna answered indifferently. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals.
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