Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. The youth of them! And what was he going to do when they left his island? What would Donald McClintock be doing with himself, when youth left the island, never more to return? Ruth was thrilling with joy. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. Spurlock felt very well pleased with himself. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. I shall know what to say to him when he comes. ” She breathed an inner sigh of relief.
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