” She shook her head. ’ ‘Woof!’ uttered the sergeant, jumping back. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. " "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. But the vicomte has said that his sister may remain, but that the daughter must go.
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