" "Be pacified, sweet soul," said Wood, looking meaningly at Thames; "you shall go, and I will accompany you. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. Since her husband has laid me under such a weight of obligation, I couldn't, in honour, continue— hem!" and he took another explanatory pinch. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch.
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