Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. "Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce. The air was crisp and dry. Degree! degree! She smiled on a gallant of high degree. A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face.
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