Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. ‘Gad, what a mess!’ Gerald pulled free, and Melusine broke back, staring at him. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery.
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