"What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart. At least here she was safe. ‘You don’t know him. .
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