One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD.
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