"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. She recoiled. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. Wood heard the cry. Critically, she stared at her own features. His hands came up, his face broke apart. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable.
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