Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began to read aloud. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “Lucy! Where is my daughter? Where have you. "I have it too!" exclaimed Hogarth, busily plying his pencil.
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