\"Sure. "I'll need a job when I quit this bed. Give me your hand. Little more’n a week. There's the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. " "No; she accepts it," rejoined Jonathan, triumphantly.
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