In the struggle, Mrs. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. “He can’t be more than thirty. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. Drink the toast, Jack. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool.
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