The period of repression was over. . She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. . The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. But it’s as you say. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent.
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