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Billy squared his shoulders. Yes, he would do as she would wish. He would confess. But the best of intentions go oft awry and Billy's present ones were suddenly sidetracked by a giggle from Anson, a giggle freighted with malice, triumph and devilish joy at his predicament. "There, there," cried the big-hearted woman, "of course it did." "Why, your honour, when I went in she[Pg 265] looked at me and burst into a laugh that turned my blood cold.".
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Conrad
When in the Chops of the Channel the weather thickened all round: a dingy drizzle of rain curtained the horizon into the distance of a cannon shot, and out of this sullen dimness which was not to be shifted nor broken into spaces showing recesses, the surge came in a steel-dark curve upon whose polished back the foam that fell from the head of the billow cast a deeper gloom filled with raven gleams like water at night. A bright look-out was kept. The Aurora under all plain sail sprang through these glooming waters, and the brine swept from her weather-bow in sharp shootings of brilliant hail. Captain Acton walked slowly towards Old Harbour Town. He was sunk in thought, and was in deep distress and at a loss to know what to do. He had no machinery of police to command. 1805 was a year very primitive as compared with 1905. He reflected that the first step in the disappearance of his daughter as represented in the statement of Mr Adams might indicate nothing in respect of the real cause of her disappearance. Because, suppose his surmise was correct, and that she had hastened to the help of some afflicted or humble person whom she befriended, she might, after having left the place wherever it was, have met with some disaster; she might have fallen over the cliff—she might on some roundabout way home have been robbed and left for[Pg 197] dying; in short, when a person mysteriously disappears a hundred reasons for his or her envanishment will occur to the mind, and any one of them may so satisfy, so convince, that those who accept it will go to work as though it were the truth though it possess but the very attenuated merit of being a conjecture. But the contradictions of the female heart! What mental physiologist shall attempt more, without certain failure, than to describe [Pg 449]without addling his brains by trying to explain? You might call Lucy an impossible character whose presentment may find a fit frame in a novel, but for the like of whom the ranks of women, warm, living, with clear minds and perceptions, must be searched in vain. If this is what shall be thought, let the objection stand: it shall not be reasoned in this place. Enough, if actual facts are recorded. "And what is that conviction, madam?" asked Sir William, from whose jolly round face fatigue had robbed much of its warm colour..
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