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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

His questioning was so artfully contrived,
that he seemed even in his own eyes to volunteer all this information
rather than to have it wrested from him; and he was brought to this
state of feeling so naturally, that when Mr Chester yawned at length and
declared himself quite wearied out, he made a rough kind of excuse for
having talked so much.
'There--get you gone,' said Sir John, holding the door open in his hand.
'You have made a pretty evening's work. I told you not to do this. You
may get into trouble. You'll have an opportunity of revenging yourself
on your proud friend Haredale, though, and for that, you'd hazard
anything, I suppose?'
'I would,' retorted Hugh, stopping in his passage out and looking
back; 'but what do I risk! What do I stand a chance of losing, master?
Friends, home? A fig for 'em all; I have none; they are nothing to me.
Give me a good scuffle; let me pay off old scores in a bold riot where
there are men to stand by me; and then use me as you like--it don't
matter much to me what the end is!'
'What have you done with that paper?' said Sir John.
'I have it here, master.'
'Drop it again as you go along; it's as well not to keep such things
about you.


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