It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. ‘En tout cas, it is not up at all, but down. He was so seldom wrong.
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