There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. Taking his new purchase under his arm, Jack proceeded to a small tavern in the same street, where, having ordered dinner, he went to a bed-room to attire himself. ’ ‘Nothing would make me do so, except to tell him how you have cheated me. Figg," replied Jack, smiling; "for, before I'm taken to Tyburn, I mean to borrow a shirt for the occasion from you. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun.
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