Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. What is it that you wish from me? You would like to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy.
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