She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock.
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