It was her past now, not Annabel’s. And the jailers also retired. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, Crying, "Keep it till call'd for by JONATHAN WILD! "The rascal one day, "Will pass by this way, "And drink a full measure to moisten his clay! "And never will Bowl of Saint Giles have beguiled "Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as JONATHAN WILD!" V.
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