The air was pungent and leaden. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild.
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