While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in Jonathan's threat of sending him to the round-house, and apprehensive of something even worse than imprisonment. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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