He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. ‘Never fear, my love. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. " "Not before I have conducted your child thither," retorted Jonathan, with a withering look. Do you live here?" "Not exactly," answered the carpenter. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word.
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