Jonathan threw open the street-door. And my wife won’t live with me for reasons that I think most women would consider sound. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. “Molly and you settled about the rooms. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. He shuddered. And were you to load me with thrice the weight of iron you have ordered you should not prevent my escaping a third time. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me.
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