Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. “Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. Do you accept it?" "Dear Thames!" "Forgive this ill-timed avowal of my love.
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