She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. ToC After a few minutes' rapid walking, during which neither party uttered a word, Jonathan Wild and his companion had passed Saint Paul's, dived down a thoroughfare on the right, and reached Thames Street. “No, that’s fine. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. Think! You could not have done it. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing.
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