Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. The man was mad to marry me. “I should love to come. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth.
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