"Well, Sir Rowland," he said, after a brief pause, during which the knight regarded him with a searching glance, as if endeavouring to recall his features, "I will not gainsay your words. "Steady, old top! What are you going to do?" "The damned scoundrel!" "I told you that child was opal. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly.
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