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. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724. " "My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large. His complexion was as blue as a sailor's jacket, and though Mr. “You’re splendid. ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way.
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