“Come this way,” he said. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. She opened it and imbibed. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild.
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