‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. " "So I've found out the way to move her," thought the carpenter; "those tears will do her some good, at all events. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be.
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