’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. Strange gurgle-like noises emanated from the crypt. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. 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. But Gerald took it for the routine interest in an eligible bachelor, although he was aware many females had an eye for scarlet regimentals. “I don’t think I shall. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. . .
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