Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. Wood, who had worked herself into a passion; "and, I'll warrant 'em, the boldest robber among 'em shall repent it, if he comes across me. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Cold drops stood upon Wood's brow, as he encountered this obstacle.
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