You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Lad, that fuddles me!" "Did you bring me down here to crucify me?" cried Spurlock, in passionate rebellion. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. These were yarns! As he was about to slip the manuscripts into the envelope, something caught his eye: by Howard Spurlock.
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