‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering.
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