Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction;—"a devilish pretty fellow!" "Upon my word, Poll," said Kneebone, becoming very red, "you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before my face. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. ‘Knew you had the lad with you, and thought you were merely delayed. There was a gentle rustling of skirts.
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