"It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. . That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. “Come,” she said.
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