Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild. "I am expected, I find," observed Jack, glancing at the well-covered board. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans.
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