"Show me your warrant!" said Wood, almost driven to his wit's-end; "perhaps it isn't regular?" "Ask him who he is?" suggested Thames. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. —The general who gives an order for wholesale carnage never sleeps a wink the less soundly for the midnight groans of his victims, and we should deride him as a coward if he did. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. Her shoulders began to ache. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. No gentleman was ever called Thames, and Darrell is a gentleman, unless the whole story of his being found in the river is a fabrication!" "My dear, you forget—" "No, Mr. Wood hadn't struck me. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street.
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