The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. She drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glasses good-naturedly with Mr. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Then he threw the letter at me.
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