Saint Giles's Round-house. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that.
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