He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. "I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. Never bought a shirt in my life, Mr. Not fit to be dust on your boots. " "None whatever," rejoined Wild. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard.
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