He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. "No Blueskin, I perceive, Sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. "I'm surprised you've not asked that question before, Sir Rowland. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. All the world before you, all the ologies. Blueskin, however, was not unattended. So he found her when he came round the corner of the spinney.
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