She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. " "That's me," interposed Jonathan; "a thief-taker is always a murderer in the eyes of a thief. She missed them already. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action.
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