E. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. . She can be of use to me yet. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert.
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