He was no match for Brendon. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. She could not help but swoon a little. Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors.
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