Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. Good-bye, aunt. "Well, gentlemen," rejoined Wood, mildly; "since Mr. "Get in wid ye, ye villin!" And, despite his resistance, Shotbolt was thrust into the chair, which was instantly fastened upon him.
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