\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a large grin on his fat Irish face. " "Never!" replied the woollen-draper; "and if that treacherous rascal, by your side, doesn't make himself scarce quickly, I'll send a bullet through his brain. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up.
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