I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts.
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