In the first place there were not so many suitable advertisements as she had expected. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. The impassivity of her features changed at last. He drew her away from this thought. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
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