I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. It won't do to knock at the door, and Jonathan Wild's house is not quite so easy of entrance as Mr. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce.
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