"Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. Her lips were dry and cracked. This was occasioned by Jonathan Wild, who was seen to mount his horse and join the train. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. So far as I'm concerned, nothing could please me more.
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