For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. ‘Typical. . “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner.
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