So, then, when McClintock offered the coveted haven, Spurlock became afire to dramatize the idea. Losing his presence of mind, Jack quitted his hold, and dropped upon the frame. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt.
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