A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. ” “It is very nice of you,” Anna said softly. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. 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.
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