They both listened intently. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. “I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. " "Conduct me to your dwelling, Sir, without further delay," said Trenchard, sternly,—"to the boy. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray.
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