"The men. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. “She told you that?” “Yes. “You see, I will take your arm. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind.
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