" "But, man, this chap hasn't fallen soft. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild.
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