In one of the little red circles the doctor had traced that abbreviation. Jack had thus been six hours in accomplishing his arduous task. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. ’ She sighed. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night.
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