By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. The black, meantime, began to ply his hammer, and speedily unriveted the chains. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. "Adorable girl!" he cried, in the most impassioned tone, and with the most impassioned look he could command.
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