‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. "'This is the way in which I will serve all who attempt to apprehend me. I knew where I would go next: Florence. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. This was occasioned by Jonathan Wild, who was seen to mount his horse and join the train.
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