“Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose.
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