" "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. Anna held out her hand, and he paused. Small blame to her. He brought another small loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. “When did you start?” She said between puffs. " "And, therefore, the first I would visit," replied Jack, boldly. . ’ ‘How do I know that?’ demanded Jack.
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