Earles drew out his cheque book. “Let me see,” he said. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch.
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