“I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. " "Take care you don't fall into it yourself," returned Jackson, with a slight sneer. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. "I've the Bridewell account to settle.
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