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I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. You have neither reason nor logic. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. "I advised him not to trouble you farther about Jack Sheppard," answered the supposed janizary. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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