As far as I recollect, there were two. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. . ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. Another instance was that of Toby Tanner—" "No more of this," interrupted Trenchard; "where is the boy?" "Not far hence," replied Wild.
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