His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. ‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. He got off on it. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street.
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