It seemed to make her sister downcast beyond any precedent. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus.
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