She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. It’s all right. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard.
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