“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. He certainly bore inspection. ‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least.
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