\" Said John as he piled the
papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. Very quietly, he added, “Oh
Lucia, I’m sorry. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. But she did not speak. I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn
over in their graves. Immediately the
"boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to
clear the way. This
was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as
“White’s. If he adhered to this
policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by
night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of
recollection. ”
“Please don’t let him know I’m here yet. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of
inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape
from the New Prison. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an
obsession.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 26-06-2024 20:39:03