"Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. I don’t believe in the faults. "An oath weighs little with me, compared with your safety. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. But we cannot discuss this here. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom.
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