" "Can you make me honest?" cried Jack. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. I think that I will tell you. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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