Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. ‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. Gerald tried it. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild.
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