Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Instantly seizing it, the young man placed it in the carriage, shut the door, and commanded his servants to drive off. But here,—even here, the demon was suffered to intrude, and Jack's thoughts were distracted by Jonathan Wild, who stood at a little distance from him, and kept his bloodthirsty eyes fixed on him during the whole of the service. “Anna,” he cried eagerly.
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