"Gentlemen of the Mint," said the orator, "when I was first called, some fifty years ago, to the important office I hold, there existed across the water three places of refuge for the oppressed and persecuted debtor. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. He'll mend, I hope. "Quilt Arnold, is that you?" "It is, Sir," sputtered the janizary. There'll be busy days and idle. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. A radiant smile astonished him.
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