You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. In reply to this summons a horn was instantly blown at the corner of the street. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment.
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