" "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. “I saw his face in a mirror. Your pursuers are below. "Certainly not," replied Gay. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. And as a natural consequence, they don’t do so well, and they don’t get on—and so the world doesn’t pay them. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively.
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