Why should she? she asked rebelliously. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. "Who, then?" demanded Jack.
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