There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it.
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