ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. "Don't disturb yourself," said his follower, motioning him to keep still; "it's all right. Michelle looked her up and down, liking the results of her efforts. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. But not so much a pig as that man. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford.
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