The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. There was only one prisoner in the ward. Profligate women are never reclaimed. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope.
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