Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. I suppose you will think me very unsisterly and cold-hearted, but there are circumstances in connexion with my sister’s latest exploit which are intensely irritating both to my husband and to myself. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. Wild is a friend of yours, I'm sorry for what I said.
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