I am a man—of a sort of experience. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. Easily I could have killed you. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. ‘She won’t like it,’ prophesied the captain gloomily. “I wonder,” said Ramage, “that more girls don’t think as you do and want to strike out in the world. Is there any truth, do you suppose, in this rumoured marriage?” “I know nothing,” Courtlaw answered hurriedly.
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