“Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. A fortnight passed, then a month. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. I asked him—to take me away. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. ‘He was very kind to me. It consisted of a full-dress coat of brown flowered velvet, laced with silver; a waistcoat of white satin, likewise richly embroidered; shoes with red heels, and large diamond buckles; pearlcoloured silk stockings with gold clocks; a muslin cravat, or steen-kirk, as it was termed, edged with the fine point lace; ruffles of the same material, and so ample as almost to hide the tips of his fingers; and a silver-hilted sword. Amiable and good-looking. There was another little thing he had to say. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. My vengeance is completely gratified.
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