"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. His tongue was hot. It is no problem. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. ” “Oh, damn the thing!” Sir John exclaimed, tucking the loose ends inside his coat.
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