"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. That’s— that’s my private life. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. “Not really. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket.
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