“H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. I would like to talk to you about this—soon.
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