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Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. F. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. And it's uncanny. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. Life is morality—life is adventure. .
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