"He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. They had refused. His face was downcast. Ann Veronica sat back with a sigh of relief. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him. Wood's boat bearing up towards him. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then.
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