“I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. For each costume she had devised a suitable form of matrimonial refusal. You can enjoy him and then drink him up. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis.
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