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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

We may get off
scot-free. Unlikelier things than that have come to pass. Even if we
shouldn't, and the chances fail, we can but be worked off once: and when
it's well done, it's so neat, so skilful, so captiwating, if that don't
seem too strong a word, that you'd hardly believe it could be brought
to sich perfection. Kill one's fellow-creeturs off, with muskets!--Pah!'
and his nature so revolted at the bare idea, that he spat upon the
dungeon pavement.
His warming on this topic, which to one unacquainted with his pursuits
and tastes appeared like courage; together with his artful suppression
of his own secret hopes, and mention of himself as being in the same
condition with Hugh; did more to soothe that ruffian than the most
elaborate arguments could have done, or the most abject submission.
He rested his arms upon his knees, and stooping forward, looked from
beneath his shaggy hair at Dennis, with something of a smile upon his
face.
'The fact is, brother,' said the hangman, in a tone of greater
confidence, 'that you got into bad company. The man that was with you
was looked after more than you, and it was him I wanted. As to me, what
have I got by it? Here we are, in one and the same plight.


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