You had better let me go again. "What weight are these irons?" asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners. It was then, I am sure, empty. ” “It is over for now,” he answered, “but I cannot bear to think that you are subject to this sort of thing. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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