"'Faith, an' you may say that," returned a watchman, who was wiping a ruddy stream from his brow; "they've broken the paice, and our pates into the bargain. I don’t know. What has been the matter?” “Toothache,” he answered laconically. "Where did you pick it up?" "I believe I told you; at Yale. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard.
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