These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. “Friendships that are all very well between school-girls don’t always go on into later life. If only we work together. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. Then the incredible happened. ‘But a spy I am not. It was bad luck to go to Canongate.
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