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The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. Their conversation hung. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. " "Make it positive," was the brisk reply. D'ye hear. Sheppard. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. “You must not think of me as one.
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