He recoiled from the sting. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. “A Socialist of the order of John Ruskin. ” She taunted. 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.
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