Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. The chance had gone. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. Stanley, “just a moment.
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