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Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly. With some difficulty, they managed to negotiate the passage with their burden and carry him out into the library. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. There! You are trying to take your hand away. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. ” “Oh, you mean Mr.
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