The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. I tried. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant.
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