It’s just upon my lunch-time. “Where am I?” he muttered. Spurling and Marvel. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice.
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