"No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. Another coach was then procured, in which the prisoner was placed. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge.
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