The mighty concourse became for a moment still. “I am. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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