Spurlock mused over the previous night. I want to know who sent you those. " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. His tone was rough, almost threatening.
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