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ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. “Not at all. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it. But God did not put you next door. "What's the matter, lad, after all the wonderful fireworks at lunch?" Spurlock beheld McClintock standing beside him. All she had found was the love of this dog.
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