The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I hope you are going to Carey House. But he would make it a point not to speak again to the girl. “We’re going to be sensible. Nothing seemed to be amiss. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away.
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