The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. "Oh! Jack! Jack!—you little know what a price I've paid for you!" "Well, I'm glad those women are gone," remarked Shotbolt. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. His struggles were so violent, that, being a man of tremendous strength, it was some time before they could master him, and it required the combined efforts of all the four partners to put him into irons. They would be quite as entertaining as the histories of Guzman D'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, Estevanillo Gonzalez, Meriton Latroon, or any of my favourite rogues,—and far more instructive. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. "Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. Marry, come up! I'm not so easily deluded. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. She took a few of his things before she scanned the area.
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