These were yarns! As he was about to slip the manuscripts into the envelope, something caught his eye: by Howard Spurlock. It had been easy to steal. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. Spurling had retired for the night. Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom.
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