Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed. A lovely, fetching girl. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. The likeness was ridiculous. “To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person.
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