"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. Do you hear me, Sir? Won't you stir!" "Not a step," replied Langley, gruffly.
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