He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. . Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. And Mrs.
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