The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr.
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