She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. " Lady Trafford sighed deeply. She was quite unconcerned. " "Fear nothing. Don't lay it all to the boy. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Wudd I'm here, and have brought him a message from his unlawful son, and don't be detainin' me, my darlin', for there's not a minute to lose if the poor lad's to be recused from the clutches of that thief and thief-taker o' the wurld, Jonathan Wild. And the woollen-draper departed.
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