And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it.
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