A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. She could not move. Maggot had disappeared. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly. I suppose I ought to have been a man. Thames Darrell.
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