" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. Here he was almost stunned by the deafening clamour resounding on all sides. I've bumped into so much of the underside that I can't see clean any more. But it appears he was picked up by fishermen, and carried to France, where he has remained ever since, and where it would have been well for him if he had remained altogether. I'm almost sorry I've sworn to hang you. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons.
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