Shotbolt, the head turnkey of Clerkenwell Prison, and Mr. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. "I am perhaps exceeding my authority in demanding so slight a sum," continued Jonathan, modestly, "and the Master of the Mint may not be disposed to let you off so lightly. At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready.
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