"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my entire life, Lucy, and that’s saying something. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment.
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