There is the election——” He laughed derisively. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. . He was now as civil as he had just been insolent. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door.
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