He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. Ruth shivered; she was cold. “Quite unusually cold for the time of year,” he said. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. "Two hundred pounds!" exclaimed Ireton, "besides the governor's offer—that's three hundred. Give me this picture.
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