There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. —"Oh! about that boy, Thames Darrell. That’s my advice to you. Could you just let me in? I have a surprise for him. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin.
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