The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. “Shut up, you little faggot. ‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. "What's the matter with the man?" demanded Wild. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room.
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