Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. "The lash cuts to the bone. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. And now I've another job for you.
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