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And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. ‘Sindlesham? But Gerald has gone out of town to visit that very person. “Have you not missed me?” He inquired.
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