“If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. She felt terrible lying to him. 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. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. "This gentleman brings us tidings of an old friend, my dear," said the carpenter.
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