‘You do not know how I am like my mother. The Disguise 261 VI. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. John, he was between me and the door. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough.
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