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"Ho, no," replied Jack. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. Ramage admitted the force of that. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. “There is my aunt,” she said.
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