It was Celeste’s idea. CHAPTER XVIII. “No, I am alone,” she answered. "If you two loved each other," went on the doctor, "there would be something to stand on—a reason why for this madness. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. Accordingly, he stopped the coach, dismounted, and hastened towards the assemblage, which, he was glad to find, consisted chiefly of a posse of watchmen and other guardians of the night. Brendon.
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