" The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. “You must fetch a doctor,” she said. ‘That is good. Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. “I do want you. Do you accept it?" "Dear Thames!" "Forgive this ill-timed avowal of my love. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you.
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