Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. " CHAPTER VI. Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. I have it about me. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it.
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