\"Hi Mark. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. I am sure I never enjoyed so much popularity in my life. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you.
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