But no more of that. "A hundred guineas if you hang Jack Sheppard. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. He added, ‘Also others, but I don’t recall them. It would be too mortifying. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. Earles closed the piano with a little bang.
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