She became angry with herself. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. "I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. "Not that I know of," replied the carpenter, who had in some degree recovered his confidence. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door.
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