- end_line
- 6513
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:26.985Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6504
- text
- stands your hat awry and bunged on your head, but your coat is fouled
and torn. Nay,’ he cried to the red-gown, ‘this is an unfortunate
friend; a simple spectator, I assure you.’
‘Ah! is that you, old lad!’ responded the red-gown, in familiar
recognition of my guide--a personal friend as it seemed; ‘well, convey
your friend out forthwith. Mind the grand crash; it will soon be coming;
hark! now! away with him!’
Too late. The last dish had been seized. The yet unglutted mob raised a
- title
- Chunk 15