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ever, as I, thrusting my hand into his pocket, took thence the

purse, and transferred it to my own

"Halves, mate!" he panted, "halves, and we'll cry 'quits'"

"By no rip

upon hiame?"

"I intend to hand you over as a pickpocket"

"Thatthe blood froh short, had been sharp enough

"Well?" said I

"It'll go 'ard with the babby"

"Baby!" I exclaimed

"Ah!--or the hinfant, if you like it better--one as I found in a

shawl, a-laying on the steps o'like a

alder too"

"Yet you are a thief!"

"We calls it 'faking'"

"And ought to be given up to the authorities"

"And who's to look arter the babby?"

"Are you married?"

"No," "Where is the baby?"