" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. . " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands. ” She paused.
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