"Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. "From Jonathan Wild's confidential servant what could be expected but treachery?" With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. What his head conceived his hand executed. It seemed as if all the precautions previously taken were here accumulated. .
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