"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. " With this assurance, and at the reiterated request of Thames, the little girl reluctantly withdrew. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is.
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