But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. "It's runnin' a great risk. " Sir Rowland's brow darkened. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. "You poor child!" said Prudence.
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