Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. But here,—even here, the demon was suffered to intrude, and Jack's thoughts were distracted by Jonathan Wild, who stood at a little distance from him, and kept his bloodthirsty eyes fixed on him during the whole of the service.
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