"Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. " And the great thief-taker indulged himself in a chuckle at the effect produced by this announcement. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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