“Dear me!” he said. "Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you?" Ben inquired. "Not my king's," returned Wood. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived.
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