“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. Wood, in indignant surprise. “You know very well that she is selfish and pleasure-loving to the backbone. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. She did not know Mr.
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