It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Unable to withstand this appeal, Thames gave the required promise, adding, —"Oh! Winny, I wish Mr. I got myself locked up to cool off. She heard their feet and muffled voices. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand.
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