Oh! that Mr. "What weight are these irons?" asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners. " "Then I must wait a long time," grumbled Blueskin. To write under a pseudonym!—to be forced to disown his children! He could not write under his own name, enjoy the fruits of fame should these tales prove successful. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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