You have a daughter, no? Madame Ibstock, I think. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Mr. ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation.
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