” He hesitated, and walked away from her toward the house. 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. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. You have nothing more to fear from Wild.
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