A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. “I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your private life. 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. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. " "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. ‘But then again, possibly not.
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