“You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Was she interested in that young ass who was risking his bones over there in the city? They had come up on the same boat. They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head.
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