‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. Amongst others, the watchman whose box was placed against the churchyard wall, near the entrance to Shoe-lane, rushed out and sprung his rattle, which was immediately answered by another rattle from Holborn-bars. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. Earles regarded it approvingly.
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