All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. ToC Jonathan Wild's first object, as soon as he had made good his retreat, was to ascertain what had become of his janizaries, and, if possible, to release them. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face.
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