” Mike parroted in a nasal tone. They rose as she approached. ’ She grimaced. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy.
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