Little more’n a week. “Well,” she said. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. The door was fastened by a catch and a latch with an inside key, to which at night a chain and two bolts were added. She can't last long.
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