There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. Leave me behind: I'm not afraid. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.
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