13 Montague Street. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. The thought of beauty became an obsession. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking.
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