"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. Too much, perhaps. “Come,” he said, “this is capital, capital. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. ‘A devil is just what you are.
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