“What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. Meysey Hill—never your wife. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. For so far she had kept it uncashed. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town.
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