‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. One who—who—tres.
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