" The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. “If you speak—farewell. Get me an interview with her. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge.
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