How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down. He had grabbed a tiny remote control and flew the thing around the table, landing it there and turning it off. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. “Go on,” he said.
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