Yours?" The stranger hesitated. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf.
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