"Well, how goes it?" he asked. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Engines were brought to play upon Wild's premises, and upon the adjoining houses. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. I am entirely English, as you know well. The intensity of the eyes and the defiant tone bewildered the doctor, who found his well-constructed jeremiad without a platform.
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