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Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. When Captain Darrell's birth is ascertained, I've no doubt he'll turn out a nobleman's son. “I look older. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry.
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