‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. Wood a very free-and-easy sort of stare, winked at Mr. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields.
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