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Updated: May 19, 2025
Conducting himself throughout as if in his poor fashion he really meant it, and winding up with some very miserable sobs. Allan Woodcourt sees that this is not a sham. He constrains himself to touch him. "Come, Jo. Tell me." "No. I dustn't," says Jo, relapsing into the profile state. "I dustn't, or I would." "But I must know," returns the other, "all the same. Come, Jo."
Very apprehensive of being overheard, Jo looks about him and even glances up some ten feet at the top of the hoarding and through the cracks in it lest the object of his distrust should be looking over or hidden on the other side. "Who took you away?" "I dustn't name him," says Jo. "I dustn't do it, sir. "But I want, in the young lady's name, to know. You may trust me. No one else shall hear."
'If your gov'nor had been a coachman, reasoned Mr. Weller, 'do you s'pose as that 'ere jury 'ud ever ha' conwicted him, s'posin' it possible as the matter could ha' gone to that extremity? They dustn't ha' done it. 'Wy not? said Sam, rather disparagingly. 'Wy not! rejoined Mr. Weller; ''cos it 'ud ha' gone agin their consciences.
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