Contests were held every year, the type of which depended on her caprice. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. 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. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. She was suddenly grave.
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