’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. "Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. 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. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. “Lucy, this isn’t funny anymore. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. But while there's life there's hope.
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