"The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. But I have remembered the horse and have asked this sergeant that a soldier fetch him. It is dull—deadly dull. He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, Crying, "Keep it till call'd for by JONATHAN WILD! "The rascal one day, "Will pass by this way, "And drink a full measure to moisten his clay! "And never will Bowl of Saint Giles have beguiled "Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as JONATHAN WILD!" V. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. " In spite of her displeasure, Winifred could not help smiling at the absurdity of this address.
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