"Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes. Sure Mike!" At the hotel he wrote a long letter to his chief, explaining every detail of the fizzle. "You shall not pass," cried several of the crowd. "An American. “Forgive me,” he said. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price.
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