A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Spurling, "I hope he may never see Tyburn. ‘Prudence? This name I have heard it spoken. Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait.
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