Assured, if he remained much longer where he was, he would inevitably perish, Wood recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and began his perilous course. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms.
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