" "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. "I haven't a word to say, Ah Cum, not a word. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down. He patted the hand on his sleeve. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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