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But Blueskin found it impossible to make off,—at least with the spoil,—Mrs. "It's Jonathan Wild come back with a troop of constables at his heels, to search the house," rejoined Mrs. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. "You've but a sorry lodging, Mrs. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. She backed away from him.
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