Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. ‘I was not born to this. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet.
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