What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. "You've ruined my hopes. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering.
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