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. "I wonder if you will understand what this kindness means to me? I am so terribly wise—and so wofully ignorant!" CHAPTER XII The doctor shifted his books and magazines to the crook of his elbow. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. For a time they walked in silence.
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