" He had now gained the high road. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. When she spoke, her lips twitched. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. “I’m not so sure. ’ ‘That wasn’t my fault. Let—it—fall. " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. I hear her coming. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper.
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