If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. "Jonathan Wild, I'll be sworn," said Gay. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. Nothing else matters.
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