Figg," replied Jack, smiling; "for, before I'm taken to Tyburn, I mean to borrow a shirt for the occasion from you. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. I might have known it. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. Book. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow. A little love from him would be enough. So I dare say I was christened Jack. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
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