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His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Answering him was agonizing. The coachman answered by a surly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street; traversed that part of Holborn, which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were, then, standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compston Street; and, diving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the further end of which Saint Giles's round-house was situated. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly. Let’s go up to my room. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. She further suspected that he might find a servant to dally with in the meantime, if he had not already. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather—to deal frankly with you,—he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. That, I think, is manifest. Don’t leave me.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-07-2024 14:20:32
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