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McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Small, but eminently serviceable. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Figg," replied Jack, smiling; "for, before I'm taken to Tyburn, I mean to borrow a shirt for the occasion from you. I'll write out certain rules of conduct, and then you'll never be in doubt. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. ” “But is that really so?” said Ann Veronica.

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