“Yes. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. “You do not know what you say. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. "I am perhaps exceeding my authority in demanding so slight a sum," continued Jonathan, modestly, "and the Master of the Mint may not be disposed to let you off so lightly.
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