148 “Sure. CHAPTER XVIII. Madame Valade was that kind of woman. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. " "Well, if they send you to prison, I'll be outside when they let you go. The thing is done. You DO use vile language!” “Forget about it like this.
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