But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features.
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