I thought that you were he. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. Purney, the ordinary, who had latterly conceived a great regard for Jack, addressed him in a discourse, which, while it tended to keep alive his feelings of penitence, was calculated to afford him much consolation.
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