What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Moving room to room it was. She confided in me yesterday. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. I step on my neighbour's feet, return and apologize because my acquired conscience orders me to do so; whereas you might pass on without caring if your neighbour hopped about on one foot. An hour was then passed in conversation as to the possibility of rendering any assistance to Jack; in deploring his unhappy destiny; and in the consideration of the course to be pursued in reference to Jonathan Wild. Don’t look so frightened. Here he obtained some breakfast, and mounting the hill turned off into the fields on the right.
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