He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. Then Ah Cum was notified that the patient had sat up in bed for quarter of an hour.
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