He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Wood, bursting into tears, "God bless you!" Jack extended his hand towards him, and looked anxiously for Thames; but he was nowhere to be seen. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. Ramage. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought.
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