Don't lay it all to the boy. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. 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. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. "Arrest!" "Jigger closed!" shouted a hoarse voice in reply.
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