"No; I don't think I'd laugh. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books.
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