"Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. They showered together. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. " "Detained!" echoed Marvel.
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