Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. “I should love to come. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. Go for it. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. Then she was out of the door and running, fast. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other.
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