"Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. After all, it was really rather funny. He smothered a laugh. It was too good to be true. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose; for four such monarchs don't often come together.
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