Imagine any one on this side refusing fifty bucks! Well, I'll be toddling along. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. "Gone," replied the wounded man.
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