There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. It is better to face the truth. ’ He gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door.
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