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Trollope, Anthony, 1815-1882

"ée"

The old man had disdained to halloo, and
had almost disdained to run; but he had suffered himself to be hurried
into a shambling kind of gait, and when he was met by Chapeau, he was
almost as much out of breath as his daughter.
"Oh, oh! for mercy's sake--for heaven's sake--kind Sir, dear Sir,"
sobbed Annot, as she saw a man approaching her; and then when he was
near enough to her to be distinguished through the evening gloom, she
exclaimed:
"Mercy on us, mercy on us, its Jacques Chapeau!" and sank to the ground,
as though she had no further power to take care of herself now that she
had found one who was bound to take care of her.
"You're just in time, Michael Stein; thank God, you're just in time!
Annot, come on, its only a dozen yards to the raft, and we'll be off at
once. Well, this is the luckiest chance: come on, before a whole crowd
are down upon us, and swamp us all."
"Oh me! oh me!" sobbed Annot, still sitting on the ground, as though she
had not the slightest intention of stirring another step that night: "to
be left and deserted in this way by one's friends--and one's
brothers--and--and--one's--" she didn't finish the list, for she felt
sure that she had said enough to cut Chapeau to the inmost heart, if he
still had a heart.


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