’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Kneebone?" "He'd better not," muttered Blueskin. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory.
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