But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben.
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