"'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. Sorry. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter.
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