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Manning. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded. People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels —all eager to assist in the capture. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. The Iron Bar. It was her past now, not Annabel’s.
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