She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. "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. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. She wanted to come, and I wouldn't let her. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge.
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