"Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. Seeing from the threatening looks of his captors, that they were about to wreak their vengeance upon him, the miserable wretch besought mercy in abject terms, and charged his master with the most atrocious crimes. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. He walked unsteadily towards the door.
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