"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. " "Can I not carry you where you can obtain help?" cried Jack in a agony of distress. But it’s love you should’ve had when you were tiny and I didn’t give it to you. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living.
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