" "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. There was something very wrong. Fortescue, with a bow. "Mother, I come to you. "But if my career were truly exhibited, it must be as one long struggle against destiny in the shape of—" "Jonathan Wild," interposed Gay. She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face.
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