" "God forbid!" exclaimed Wood, fervently; and, as if afraid of prolonging the interview, he added, with some precipitation, "But I must be going: I've stayed here too long already. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Courtlaw stood up. I have suffered all this. " "Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, "and I'll soon wisk you to town. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. "As sure as one reasonably can be.
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