Maggot had disappeared. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. " "Then we won't even show you that mercy," retorted the thief-taker brutally.
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