The terror faded from her eyes. "I've spoken. Maybe it’s his loss. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr.
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