‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. I wonder what he meant by that?" "The Lord knows!" The patient was restless during the first watch of the night. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. Her sister had told him that it was true. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack.
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