The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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