"Yes, your son, Madam. Never bought a shirt in my life, Mr. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. ’ ‘You wouldn’t,’ agreed Mrs Sindlesham. Ah!" she screamed, with a sudden change of manner; and pointing to the window, which Jack had left open, and at which a dark figure was standing, "there is Jonathan Wild!" "Betrayed!" exclaimed Jack, glancing in the same direction. “I’m not gentle.
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