Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. “I meant it. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained.
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