But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. She had fallen asleep. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr.
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