And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressed as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the custody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew.
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