I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. You don’t know. He got off at Canal, and she exited behind the crowd. "Can't I settle this business, Captain," muttered Blueskin, drawing a pistol. Bird, the turner, to give him an order this evening.
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