Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. He was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected. You are nothing of the sort. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. .
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