Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared.
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