The four men fell upon him, holding his arms and legs, while Caliban forced back his head. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. I can vouch for that. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. Forgive me. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg.
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