" The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. “I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly.
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