"Gentlemen of the Mint," said the orator, "when I was first called, some fifty years ago, to the important office I hold, there existed across the water three places of refuge for the oppressed and persecuted debtor. " "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Don’t leave me.
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