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. “About two years ago. He looked about for his hat, and put it on. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. "Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation. ” “But how did you tell him? You’ve never told me. You shall behold him. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. Not a job he may care about; but he's a good sport.
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