She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. ToC Jonathan Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. Still, one never could tell. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there.
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