"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. "Has Jack displeased you? If so, overlook his fault this once. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe. " "Stay!" said Mrs. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper.
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