"Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. 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. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention.
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