She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. "Coming!—so is midnight—so is Jonathan Wild," retorted Jack, with a significant look at Thames. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night.
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