"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. ‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering.
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