Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. Lives by his wits and gambling. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. I told you that at the outset. "But, pardon my intrusion. "His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily.
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