On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Do not mistake me. ‘I must get a handkerchief. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. To-night we leave for Marseilles.
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