Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. ’ ‘You ain’t never!’ ‘Back to your post, Trodger,’ ordered the harassed captain. Well, come back in half an hour. One small wing lay at the north of the gate, where Giltspur Street Compter now stands; and the Press Yard, which was detached from the main building, was situated at the back of Phoenix Court. He began to tell me something—and stopped.
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