Fascination. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. ’ ‘Ah, so you did come here to find someone,’ Gerald responded eagerly. I always fall on my feet, you know. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. There it is.
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