" "Robbed him!" screamed the widow. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. 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. ” She looked at him quizzically and shrugged. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you.
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