Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. I was afraid of being talked about.
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