"For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. She looked at him mournfully. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. As a dog eats grass. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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