He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. It is very important because I have lost my proof. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. ToC Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully.
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