“Yeah. S. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. Wood. Michelle answered the door. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. The note-passer lagged behind with her.
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