She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. He was tall, nearly six feet, and from his stature it was clear that he spent some spare time working on his physique. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. "Of course, therefore," pursued Jonathan, "you are acquainted with all the leaders of the proposed insurrection,—nay, must be in correspondence with them.
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