The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud.
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