“You know that I have always hated this!” She 264 looked down at Michelle’s pitifully bloody head, her body barely hanging on to its breath. The next moment, an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned.
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