“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. Don’t stand gawping, man. CHAPTER XXVIII. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. ‘There are no Remenhams left.
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