The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. Maggot. I'll do anything in reason for you, old top; but no pig in a poke. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew.
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