Regardless as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes,) of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. And don't worry about the six thousand, Hoddy. His name was Peter. "Stir a foot, at your peril. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully.
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