"Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. She's my mealticket. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket.
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