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Ruth loved him. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. This was good. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here into Park Lane, or one of the Squares. Ah!" she screamed, with a sudden change of manner; and pointing to the window, which Jack had left open, and at which a dark figure was standing, "there is Jonathan Wild!" "Betrayed!" exclaimed Jack, glancing in the same direction. That is not reasonable.
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