"Steady, old top! What are you going to do?" "The damned scoundrel!" "I told you that child was opal. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. We can’t even protect them from themselves. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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