There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. "Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. He was not a sailor. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. In this way, Jack was brought back to Newgate, and again chained down in the Middle Ward.
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