"It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France. You know you do, Annabel. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. 256 Lucy chose her words carefully. Sheppard, who had been stricken down by the blow that prostrated her assailant, looked up, she perceived Jonathan Wild kneeling beside the body of Blueskin. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced.
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