" "Anything else, Sir?" "No:—stay! you'd better not bring up any silver forks or spoons. That is why I am here. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust.
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