It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. The man himself was not a pleasant object. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. Jonathan Wild, at this time, was on the high-road to the greatness which he subsequently, and not long afterwards, obtained. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken.
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