His light brown hair was almost crew cut short. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He had said so. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. "Man, man! You're coming to life.
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