” He never helped her by a sound. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. “Okay. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it.
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