The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid.
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