He’s nice. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve. She was consumed by misery and hate.
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