" "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment.
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