I don’t want to know. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon. But his daughter might well have a claim. Jonathan Wild brought him off.
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