She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. "Were I in your place," said Smith, "I should be apprehensive of Wild, because he's a declared enemy. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. "From Jonathan Wild's confidential servant what could be expected but treachery?" With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. He returned, blue towel in hand. That’s got his nerves to rags. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence.
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