The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter.
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