When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. \" He piped up. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. She drew a long breath. "It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack.
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