“He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. I got three pounds, and there’s three on my watch. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy.
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