Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. “Indeed, no,” he answered. And I do not know you. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. “I couldn’t help it. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly. Vot am I to do vith these young imps, eh?" "What you generally do with your prisoners, Mr. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. ‘Do not beg my pardon. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible.
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