Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon.
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