’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. " "Ah! indeed! what's he doing here?" inquired Jack. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. "Ho, no," replied Jack. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould.
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