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 was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. “Come,” he said, “this is capital, capital.
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