Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. Last time— you made me feel snubbed. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter.
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