Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Their small talk continued. Drink, and no sustaining food. I heard John was talking about you again from Jenny McIntyre. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. I thought it better not to send him away till I'd mentioned the circumstance to you. 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.
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