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What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. ‘Hilary was right. His blood would be sweet with it. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. “Well,” she admitted. “I don’t believe there is one. I did not reckon upon—him.
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