Kneebone's 346 XIV. ‘Do not be alarmed, Jacques. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. " "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue.
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