There was a little pause between them, full for Ann Veronica of rapid elusive suspicions and intimations. D. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. “Thank you—and good-bye. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice.
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