As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. It is repulsive. Strange, I could never learn her history.
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