"I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. Oh, they are married fast. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. But his lips were honourlocked. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it.
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