The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. "What is he gone there for?" "With a message to the turnkey to look after his prisoner," replied Wild, with a cunning smile. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price.
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