F. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. " The head turnkey, in all probability, would have obeyed. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. .
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