\" He piped up. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. 1724 THE PRISON-BREAKER. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. It was Blueskin. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre.
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