A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. " This business over, she returned to the bedside with the key. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. My business is with Lady Trafford. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. "Come home directly, Sir.
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