Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. . “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. Only him big hoss padlock—noting else. ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge.
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