“We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Then, there shall be laid upon your body as much iron, or stone as you can bear, and more. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft.
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