"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. Wood rushed instantly to meet them. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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