” “Mr. ‘I don’t think he deserved that, Melusine. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door.
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