Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. "It's runnin' a great risk. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. I have only just left Wych Street.
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