"Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. Permit me to introduce myself. Man, if you tell her you love her, and later they took you away to prison, who would sit at the prison gate until your term was up? Ruth. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. As to Jack Sheppard, he appeared utterly reckless and insensible, and did nothing but whistle and sing the whole way. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly.
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