” The corners of her mouth rose in a weak smile and she gave him a wink. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess.
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