“If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone.
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