The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend. The stench is everywhere. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. We may be stopped. I'm not hungry. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. But you couldn't. “I will believe you. It will be necessary to secure his companion; and as you say he is not in the house, some caution must be used in approaching him, or he may chance to take to his heels, for he's a slippery little rascal.
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