“Dear John,” she whispered. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat.
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