How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. ” “Not exactly. “They are full of the usual foolish stories. It was then, I am sure, empty. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly.
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