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You sent back my Christmas checks. ‘Ah, the tragedy. A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. The patient fell into a natural and refreshing sleep. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed.
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