\"Do you want a snack?\" \"No thanks. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts.
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