"Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. The river, the big buildings on the north bank, Westminster, and St. Rollo barked. You’ll end there one day, mark my words.
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