"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. Wood.
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