You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. CHAPTER XXVIII. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chain to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber.
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