By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. "Why did I not keep the money when I had it?" returned Blueskin, angrily. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. He resented being regarded as irregular.
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