My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. " He then hurried Darrell down another short flight of steps, and entered a small chamber at the back of the house. "I'll be their substitute. . . He spoke only when he saw the sing-song girl he wanted to buy. Fear nothing. What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair.
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