"Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Don’t stand gawping, man. " "Do you happen to know Jonathan Wild, master?" inquired Jack, altering his tone, and assuming a more respectful demeanour. " "Ay, and there's my liver.
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