’ Disappointment flooded her. 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. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Here are their letters. "I am not to be deceived. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you.
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