I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. "And now, to your own concerns. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly.
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