F. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. ” Courtlaw rose too.
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