" The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. But she was not there. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun.
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