"Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things.
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