Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. You know that. Was it VERY horrible? I tried to get into the police-court, but the crowd was ever so much too big, push as I would. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice.
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