” “That’s rather the theory now,” said Ann Veronica. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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