. " Jack made no answer, nor did he even cast his eyes upon his follower. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. The Wastrel did not relish this. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold.
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