A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. The ball passed over his head, and lodged in the ceiling. \"God, it's too curly for a brush. Whoever chose to incur the risk of so doing might enter the Mint at any hour; but no one was suffered to depart without giving a satisfactory account of himself, or producing a pass from the Master. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. "Please tell me whenever I am at fault.
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