Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. ‘If you imagine you’re going to use one ungentlemanly act to manipulate me, you very much mistake the matter. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. She began to tremble violently. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. “Anna!” she repeated. .
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