"My head fairly turns round. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. ‘Here we go again. Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped.
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