‘But you are idiot. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. "But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan; "Mrs. Wood, in equal trepidation. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again.
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