Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other.
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