Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey XVII. ‘I can manage now. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. . I’ve had enough of it. ’ ‘Let’s. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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