She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. If I were Mr. Stanley was throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. And in this fact lay his danger. He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. I know something about men. 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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