Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here.
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