She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from him. "Surely," observed Thames, laughing, "to one who entertains so high an opinion of Jonathan Wild, as Mr. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. I'll try a strong dose. Wild will hang me.
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