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. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. Not up here, I think. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. It was a brief solitude, however.
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