Gentlemen of the Mint," added he, pointing with his truncheon towards Mrs. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. ’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. “Listen to me. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. Good-bye.
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