"Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. I could not keep away any longer. It was not for a week or a month. "But, let that pass. But you must tell her. "There's a young woman. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. But his role was altered, and he was now playing the bridegroom in this remarkable drama. Wood could stand it no longer.
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