Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. I sha'n't cry any more. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. “It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset.
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