And I want you for myself—for my wife. She was my first love. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. " "Poor Jack!" exclaimed Thames.
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