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“I’m sorry. Wait a second. I will have nothing to do with you. Show him no quarter, Poll. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. ‘Very well, arrest me. Immediately Spurlock began to chant one of these. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall.
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