“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. Oh, John. "Eggs for me! You mistake, child. "I am come to render you a service. Only I just want him. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels —all eager to assist in the capture. Like the flaws of an old marble. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.
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