Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. ‘She’s gone. ‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you.
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