I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. " "Has Jonathan Wild been here to-day?" asked Mrs. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder tree, was evidently watching him. Wood required little pressing.
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