Ah Coom. ” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. "Yon's a dear man," said McClintock. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. " "How long have I been in bed?" "A week. I couldn’t sit down for a week!” “Oh, how terrible for you. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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