Now, I'll be getting along. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. Nor was he long in making it available.
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