Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. " The Wastrel laughed. But I never betray an old customer.
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