Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. "Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. He was tall, nearly six feet, and from his stature it was clear that he spent some spare time working on his physique. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated.
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