"How much more do you think you'll want ?" "Heaven knows.

There is a thousand dollars; but if she be half as beautiful as poor Wyse used to swear she was, I may want more than double that." "If you do, pay it, and I'll pay you again.

No, by George!" said Mark, "no one shall say that while Mark Armsworth had a balance at his bankers' he let a poor girl--" and, recollecting Mary's presence, he finished his sentence by sundry stamps and thumps on the table.
"You would soon exhaust your balance, if you set to work to free all poor girls who are in the same case in Georgia," said the Doctor.
"Well, what of that?
Them I don't know of, and so I ain't responsible for them; but this one I do know of, and so--there, I can't argue; but, Tom, if you want the money, you know where to find it." "Very good.

By the by--I forgot it till this moment--who should come down in the coach with me but the lost John Briggs." "He is come too late, then," said the Doctor.

"His poor father died this morning." "Ah! then Briggs knew that he was ill?
That explains the Manfredic mystery and gloom with which he greeted me." "I cannot tell.