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. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Best assured of that. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look.
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