"Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. Too bad he’s not interested in any girl who’s not a musician. It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice. We are nuns.
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