The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. "And so we're to be summoned from our beds and snug firesides, because a kid happens to squall, eh? By the soul of my grandmother, but this is too good!" "Do you intend to claim the privileges of the Mint?" said Jonathan, calmly pursuing his interrogations amid the uproar.
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