" And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. I knew him in spite of his dress. ‘Very well, Kimble. CHAPTER IX. 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. It was too good to be true.
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