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” “I knew it,” Ennison exclaimed. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. "When I parted from you at Mr. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again.
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