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. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred.
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