The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. "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. Her mind had been and was full of the thought of Capes, a huge generalized Capes-lover. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs.
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