The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Jonathan Wild, at this time, was on the high-road to the greatness which he subsequently, and not long afterwards, obtained.
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