” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. I had rather have trouble and hardship like that than be taken care of by others. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy.
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