Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. " Broken pipes littered the floor, if that can be said to be littered, which, in the first instance, was a mass of squalor and filth. Meanwhile, the object of all this fearful disturbance had made his escape to Newgate, from the roof of which he witnessed the destruction of his premises. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. Lucy kissed him on the cheek. “It couldn’t be. The parlour was cluttered but cosy.
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