My will never faltered. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. E.
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