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Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. She regarded the young man coldly. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. You have been burning paper, I see. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. . “She finds lying up so much very irksome.

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