’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. . ” He stepped back as though he had received a blow. "I shall do no such thing. 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. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me. .
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