Figg," replied Jack, smiling; "for, before I'm taken to Tyburn, I mean to borrow a shirt for the occasion from you. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. “But about last night. But about dat jonker," he continued, lowering his voice; "have you anything to add consarnin' him? It's almosht a pity to put him onder de water. ’ A trifle discomposed at being caught examining his surroundings, Gerald was provoked into retort. . But I expect him back every minute. "There's a young woman. "I must go. ” He seemed bored. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey.
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