‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it.
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