He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. A little kindness would not bring the world tumbling about her ears. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock. “Mr. 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. She began to tremble violently. To tell you the truth, he spoke to me very seriously upon the subject. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. .
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