With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back. “Yes. Mr. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Kneebone, I'll make one of the party. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD.
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