Wild will hang me. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. What’s that?” They both stood listening. Jack was in excellent spirits; and by his wit, drollery and agreeable demeanour, speedily became a great favourite with the turnkey, who allowed him every indulgence consistent with his situation. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. “I heard your voices, and the hall is draughty. Yet she never once thought of changing it.
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