The Jew swallowed it at a draught. "Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know.
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