‘Not yet, madame. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you.
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