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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. "Evidently he could not destroy these children of his. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. ‘Who telled you that?’ ‘Do not ask me impertinent questions, but only go you and fetch this daughter here to me. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding. I told them lies. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother.
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