And Phebe did not guess them.
"Is there any news of him ?" he asked.
"Not a word," she answered.

"Mr.Clifford has almost given it up.

He is an unforgiving man, an awful man." "No, no; he is a just man," said old Marlowe; "he wants nothing but his own again, like me, and that a scoundrel should not get off scot free.

I want my money back; it's not money merely, but my years, and my brain, and my love for thee, and my power to work: that's what he has robbed me of.

Let me have my money back, and I'll forgive him." "Poor father!" said Phebe aloud, with a little sob.