. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. Be so good as to come this way. “I SAY!” said Mr. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. " "Never mind," said the old sailor, taking up a piece of blazing coal with the tongs, and applying it to his pipe; "let 'em try. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. ‘What is it?’ asked Roding. Why?" "I was just wondering.
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