Mr. You're a queer lad. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. ” She side-stepped into his living room from behind a square white column. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Was it VERY horrible? I tried to get into the police-court, but the crowd was ever so much too big, push as I would. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink.
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