She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. ‘The outcome, I think, is in very little doubt. " "I am one-and-twenty," observed Jack. She could feel her face turning beet red. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment.
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