\"Okay, all right, no better time than the present. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Wood,—"he'll never mend. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. Nevertheless, she was still fighting. gutenberg.
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