He donned his winter coat. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. He raised her to a sitting position. You observe that I am, as usual, fairly cheerful, and moderately amiable. " Ten minutes' walk brought them to the hotel. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. .
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