" "The very face," exclaimed Gay, advancing to look at it;—"with all the escapes written in it. " "I see. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise. "We shall all be murdered. I was always used to it, and I think it gives quite a tone to an establishment. Her eyes flashed. ’ ‘Grossly unfair, too. But I can't account for it!" "At all events, you shall answer for it," thundered Wild, with a bitter imprecation.
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