” His rhythm slowed to a grind. What’s that?” They both stood listening. "There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slipping a piece of money into his hand. Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. "The poor young man!" she said. He's down in Patagonia somewhere.
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