"Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. 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. “Time for my Patience,” she said. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. But, after all, what does that matter? He is very much taken with me.
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