The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. "A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it.
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