“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. The black, meantime, began to ply his hammer, and speedily unriveted the chains. Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence.
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