“I do not blame him. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark. She was pensive and thoughtful. So, when I tell you she loves you, I know. He only stays here for you, hoping in vain. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows.
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