He looked about for his hat, and put it on. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before.
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