I don’t know what has come over me. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. They left the room amongst the last, and Ennison had almost to elbow his way through a group of acquaintances who had all some pretext for detaining him, to which he absolutely refused to listen. I’ve always wanted to look older.
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