As soon as they had got out, the vehicle was drawn up at the back of a tree near the cage. Mrs. Spurling? Why, if Captain Sheppard should get off, it 'ud be fifty guineas out of my way. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be.
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