Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. You’ll come along of me, for you’re under arrest, too. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. " Something reached down into his heart and twisted it. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild.
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