“Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. Kneebone took his leave. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. Here was a thundering blow. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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