Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. Then she was out of the door and running, fast. .
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