"He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe. She shrugged her shoulders. “Yes. I’m fine. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Such was the terror inspired by Wild's vindictive character, that few durst face him who had given him cause for displeasure. She kept her eyes closed. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him.
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