"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. ” She nodded. . Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began to read aloud.
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