He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. After all, that was life. "I wouldn't give a betel-nut for a man who wouldn't stick to his guns, if he believed himself in the right. ToC After a few minutes' rapid walking, during which neither party uttered a word, Jonathan Wild and his companion had passed Saint Paul's, dived down a thoroughfare on the right, and reached Thames Street. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. “I was born there. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed.
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