Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. 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. My vengeance is completely gratified. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois.
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