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‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724. I tell you what, Mr. The executioner shook his head. For some time after he was locked up in this prison Jack continued in a very dejected state. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms.
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