Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. A nod was exchanged. “Exceptionally so. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. "If you won't disclose your name, I will for you! You are Jonathan Wild!" "Further concealment is needless," answered the other, pulling off his wig and black patch, and resuming his natural tone of voice; "I am Jonathan Wild!" "Say you so!" rejoined Kneebone; "then be this your passport to eternity. Not so Gosse. "Do better in future. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face.
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