A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror.
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