" "And Thames Darrell would do anything for you, Jack," replied a blithe voice. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. They are their mother’s sons.
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