\" Lucy fought to resist the compulsion to 45 fold her arms over her chest. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. 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. I did think it could be done. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. " "As an honest Chinaman?"—taking out the offensiveness of the query by smiling. And he did not lack courage.
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