The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Wood underwent this examination, Blueskin felt a small and trembling hand placed upon his own, and, turning at the summons, beheld a young female, whose features were partially concealed by a loo, or half mask, standing beside him. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily found a watery grave. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly.
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