There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. Through this, his last trial, Jack's spirits never deserted him.
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