A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. "I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. “Mr. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. ’ ‘No, no,’ the other lady assured her with a twinkle.
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