The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. But she perceived that to tell Manning of her Ramage adventures as they had happened would be like tarring figures upon a water-color. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. That was Leonardo’s motto.
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