A sob was strangled in her throat. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. He flew to the window, and would have passed his sword through the thief-taker's body, if the latter had not quickly interposed the person of Mrs. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. "Hurrah! come along, Thames; we're free.
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