They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. "But, I own, I think it is like. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt.
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