Red apples and snow! How often had these two things entered his thoughts since his wanderings began? Red apples and snow!—and never again to behold them! "I am going out for a little while," she said. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. But he might have crept along the left side of the pier, and beneath the further arch; whereas, Wood, as we have seen, took his course upon the right. She glanced into his face. We are expecting a visit from Sir John Ferringhall at any moment. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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