So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. ToC Jonathan Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. Yet, stay! There is one thing I wish you to do. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents.
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