He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. It’s not far from twilight. This is something above all rules. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself.
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