“A move of any sort would certainly be fatal. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. The perception of him flooded her being. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Lives by his wits and gambling. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean.
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