She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. . In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. All the world before you, all the ologies. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. .
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