“Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. "Oho!" he said. So far as I am concerned, I am just now a hopeless nonentity. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. ’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit.
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