And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. I packed them with the other few things I owned. " "Perhaps I'm too tired to plan for to-morrow. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible.
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