Thames Darrell, I've said, is at Mr. He was entranced as she walked towards him. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. Leave the rest to me. She had never let off a pistol in her life. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more. The hansom sped through the crowded streets.
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