A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. Jonathan Wild brought him off. “It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word.
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