‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone. Kneebone invariably takes part with me, when any trifling misunderstanding arises between us. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band.
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