It has been said, that the pier of each arch, or lock of Old London Bridge, was defended from the force of the tide by a huge projecting spur called a starling. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. "An hour hence, I shall be beyond your malice," said Mrs. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. He guided her hand to his crotch, which had already grown in size.
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