“So should you. Jonathan Wild?" asked the attendant, in great trepidation. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. On returning to the audience-chamber, Jonathan found the inanimate body of Thames Darrell lying where he had left it; but, on examining it, he remarked that the pockets were turned inside out, and had evidently been rifled. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. Perhaps in the beginning the women made fools of themselves over him. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed.
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