" "May be," returned the man gravely. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. ” “Please get off at the next exit. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. " "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. She's not for pleasure, but for work.
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