Crossing them, he ascended an eminence, which, from its singular shape, seems to have been the site of a Roman encampment, and which commands a magnificent prospect. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must.
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