Saint Giles's Round-house. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. " "Who wouldn't be lively after thirty years' sleep? Did you hear her explain about beachcombers? And yet she looks at one with the straightest glance I ever saw. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house.
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