A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. I saw him lying on the footway. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. We've got to get him to care. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry.
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