“Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. CHAPTER IV. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven.
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