" "Offer them my hearty thanks," replied Jack, waving his hand to the group, all of whom returned the salutation. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. Have you brought me a message from my sister? I understood, I believe, that she was seeing you last night. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr. Further, I do not care for you to accept social obligations from Mr. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. ‘I have no idea. Though by no means so extensive or commodious as the modern prison, Old Newgate was a large and strongly-built pile.
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