Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. The patient fell into a natural and refreshing sleep. “I think,” he said, “that I am right. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. . For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men.
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