"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. Miss Mary to the life. Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door.
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