" "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. I did not know what I was saying. A hansom stopped a little way off. Then, if you are bad to me, I can more easily blow off your head. Tight. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet. I want you to be my wife.
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