Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. If individuality means anything it means breaking bounds— adventure.
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