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"Hold!" interposed Thames, "he can do no more mischief. She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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