” He did not move. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. It is she that I must see. He might solve the riddle. But I forget," he added, glancing at Austin; "it's high treason to speak disrespectfully of Mr.
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