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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

'
'You may cover it,' said Mr Chester, 'it's sufficiently real in your
sleeve.'
'I should never have been spirited up to take a kiss from the proud
little beauty, master, but for the drink,' cried Hugh. 'Ha ha ha! It was
a good one. As sweet as honeysuckle, I warrant you. I thank the drink
for it. I'll drink to the drink again, master. Fill me one more. Come.
One more!'
'You are such a promising fellow,' said his patron, putting on his
waistcoat with great nicety, and taking no heed of this request, 'that
I must caution you against having too many impulses from the drink, and
getting hung before your time. What's your age?'
'I don't know.'
'At any rate,' said Mr Chester, 'you are young enough to escape what
I may call a natural death for some years to come. How can you trust
yourself in my hands on so short an acquaintance, with a halter round
your neck? What a confiding nature yours must be!'
Hugh fell back a pace or two and surveyed him with a look of mingled
terror, indignation, and surprise. Regarding himself in the glass with
the same complacency as before, and speaking as smoothly as if he were
discussing some pleasant chit-chat of the town, his patron went on:
'Robbery on the king's highway, my young friend, is a very dangerous and
ticklish occupation.


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