Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames. Sir John once more looked around him. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within.
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