” Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison’s shoulder. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. " "On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!" replied Jack, passionately. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. “Sure, I guess so. Mr.
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