ToC "At length this tragedy is at an end," said Mr. "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. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. She had but to choose. To tell someone who is kind and who will understand!" "There, there!" he said.
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