There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. A door led to the inner room; and it was evident from the peals of merriment, and other noises, that, ever and anon, resounded from within, that this chamber was occupied by the Marquis and his friends.
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