She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. " "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. "I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. But it would serve.
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