Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears.
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