"Curse you! Where are the bailiffs? Rot you! have you lost your tongue? Devil seize you! you could bawl loud enough a moment ago!" "Silence, Blueskin!" interposed an authoritative voice, immediately behind the ruffian. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. I wonder what it was. ” She replied. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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