She led him up the long hall solemnly. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Wild," edged in Quilt.
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