How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. ” “It is a conspiracy,” she exclaimed. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. Come back—you must come back. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. 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.
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