"Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. So Mrs. ‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. "So much the worse," replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain what to do. It might be supposed that these articles, when thrust together into the bag, would have jingled; but these skilful practitioners managed matters so well that no noise was made. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent.
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