He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. Kimble had bedded the animal down at the local inn. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you.
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