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. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch.
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