" ***** "To me, you dirty blackguard!" cried Spurlock, flinging aside his helmet. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. "You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith.
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