She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. To his relief, she nodded. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window.
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