The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track. " "Curse your reward!" exclaimed Kneebone, angrily. ” “I am not afraid,” she answered. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. . ’ ‘Not dead, miss. He loved you.
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