Do you hear me, Sir? Won't you stir!" "Not a step," replied Langley, gruffly. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. Arrived at his habitation, Jonathan knocked in a peculiar manner at the door, which was instantly opened by the grim-visaged porter just alluded to. He walked with bent head. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. ‘Never fear, my love. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps.
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