"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. " "Well, if they send you to prison, I'll be outside when they let you go. Hark ye, Blueskin," continued he, addressing that personage, who, in obedience to his commands, had, with great promptitude, driven out the rabble, and again secured the door, "a word in your ear. I’ll take over here. “I know nothing about your wife.
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