Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive. Regardless as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes,) of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace.
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