"I came to see Jack Sheppard, and I won't go till you point him out to me. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. Quilt was not long in following his example.
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