Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns.
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