’ ‘Precisely,’ Gerald repeated. " "So do I," replied Ruth. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. "Gad! it's a devilish fine face when lit up. "Can't I settle this business, Captain," muttered Blueskin, drawing a pistol. Wood.
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