However, I daresay that we shall come across one another before long. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. " "Ha! hussy, dare you threaten?" cried Wild; but, checking himself, he turned to Ireton and asked, "How long have the women been gone?" "Scarcely five minutes," replied the latter. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. Were any thing to happen to him, Newgate wouldn't be what it is, nor Tyburn either.
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