"And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. Wild hasn't been to inquire after him to-day," observed Langley; "it's the first time he's missed doing so since the trial. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk.
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