Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. You won’t have a man’s lips near you, but you’ll eat out of his hand fast enough. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. I’ve been on the watch for you.
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