” She passed out without reply. I'm glad he's come to see me. ” “The Bubonic Plague?” He asked. 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. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph.
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