"Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. And I do not know you. “I have come to tell you this. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. Very dark, like yours, ma’am. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. Soho! boys.
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