She thought of Capes. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. ’ The lady uttered a scornful sound. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. “Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly.
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