"Oh! never mind him: he'll take no harm! Come with me into the parlour. “Soul to soul. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. The dog approached timidly, his tail going furiously. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. Spurlock to keep to the bungalow until the rogue goes back to Copeley's.
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