He kissed her again. “I did it for love of you,” he said. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. 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. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. " "Don't be too sure of that," rejoined Kneebone, snatching up the staff, and aiming a blow at his head, which was fortunately warded off by Mrs. As such, you may command the sympathies of the gentry.
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