Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. “It is a delightful day for walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. But he wrote on. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. Will you stand by and watch me?" The contents of the trunk only thickened the fog. To be sure," he added, lowering his tone, "they wos little 'uns, and one on 'em was smothered—ough! ough!—how this cough chokes me!" Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying, apart from the pole, upon a bench near him.
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