"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Not if I read her aright. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. " "For shame, Mr. " "You did right," returned Trenchard.
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