"Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. ’ ‘No, perhaps not,’ Gerald agreed with a smile. 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. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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