“Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. “Not a bit. Things that you and the nuns would not think about for—’ She stopped, biting back the words “for a young girl”. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night.
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