It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. " "Be handy, then," rejoined Terence, "or, I'll lose my share of the smart money. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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