"You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. I waited for her at the back. After all, this could never be the black sheep. But I will disappoint you. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance.
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