It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. She is Bohemian to the fingertips. "I want to know what you've done with the rest of the notes—with the gold— and the papers you took away from my room!" rejoined Wild. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind.
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