” “Lucy Albert, sir. While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. “I MUST speak to you,” he said. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day.
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