Your time isn't come yet. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. “I knew I should have died!” She went fast into a state of shock.
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