"Will you take a guinea for it?" "Double that sum might tempt me," replied the Jew; "it's a nobleman's coat, upon my shoul!" "Here's the money," replied Jack, taking the coat. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. ‘It were that there major, miss. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made.
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