” For some seconds he had remained quite still. But it sounds too real to be imagined. The period of repression was over. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. He stood up abruptly and went to the window.
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