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"The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths. CHAPTER XXIII. “It is nothing of any importance. The big pay strikes them; but when they find there's no place to spend it, good-bye!" Tom the cook came in with the chops and the potatoes—the doctor's dinner— and McClintock fell to with a gusto which suggested that there was still some liver under his ribs. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror.
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