They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis. with you. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself.
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