"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. But no more of that. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief. So she married him. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone.
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