"At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. “The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the common people, all pressing forward, all roused. Well, it's scarcely credible. .
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