“But you’re wrong. "Will you take a guinea for it?" "Double that sum might tempt me," replied the Jew; "it's a nobleman's coat, upon my shoul!" "Here's the money," replied Jack, taking the coat. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging.
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