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‘Soldier of fortune. ToC Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. You never saw him before yesterday. Sheppard, so that if the blow had been stricken she must have received it. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. She said as much to him. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. A shiver slid down inside her. And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear from me.
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