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. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. You want industry—you want steadiness. “But if you knew anything of that—” “I did. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable.
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