You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. This horrible piece of deformity, who acted as drawer and cellarman, and was a constant butt to the small wits of the jail, was nicknamed the Black Dog of Newgate. There were three other ships at anchor; but as two would be making Shanghai and one rounding to Singapore two days hence, it was logically certain that no fugitive would seek haven in one of these. NOW it’s just as though you had grown up suddenly. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream.
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