We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. She is a stranger to you. Of course.
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