When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. Then he threw the letter at me. Having made a tolerably good meal upon the loaf, overcome by fatigue, Jack turned into a barn in Stoke Newington, and slept till late in the day, when he awakened much refreshed. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Imitating the example of Mr.
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