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Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. Borne in the arms of a couple of assistants, and preceded by Mrs. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. “We are clerks in the same bank. What’s the name of the happy man?” Gwen owned to “Fortescue.
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