He must be gone to dispose of the body. "No Mohocks! No Scourers!" cried the mob. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. "My friends, Mr. Perhaps you'll next inform us why you have occasioned this disturbance. Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father.
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