‘They eloped. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. “No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame.
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