This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. "I was not aware that Jonathan Wild was an acquaintance of yours, Mr. Rowland," she added, in an altered tone, "I am certain I shall not live many days. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke.
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