If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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