"Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. He was consumed with desire. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not.
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