“You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. " "None whatever," rejoined Wild. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related.
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