“And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. "Surely," observed Thames, laughing, "to one who entertains so high an opinion of Jonathan Wild, as Mr.
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