Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. ’ ‘I’m coming to that.
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