The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. So he dashed himself from the highest turret of the castle he had made to the rocks below!” “Lucy, open the door, it’s me, Martin.
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