"For me—his master, Mr. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Presently McClintock came in. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. Master and missis have been talking all day long about Jack Sheppard, and I'm dying to read his life. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. "But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan; "Mrs. Sindlesham tried.
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