Taking up a couple of large stones which lay near, Jack tried to beat the round basils of the fetters into an oval form, so as to enable him to slip his heels through them. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind.
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