“Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. ” He kissed her, and handed her into the carriage. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. “No,” she answered. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor.
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