" "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. This I know, for the Valades have taught me so, and the nuns also. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. That’s probably true. "No Blueskin, I perceive, Sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge.
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