Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. There were no mourners. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. "'A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval.
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