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Now, the reward?" "I have but an ill-furnished purse. “Heaven knows!” said Mr. "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. He’s a salesman for AT and T, but he’s never made a lot of money. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. Lead the lad to suppose that he'll be introduced to Lady Trafford. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. Over here a man quickly loses faith, and I find myself back on solid ground once more.
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