“It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it.
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