A glance satisfied Jonathan that the turnkey was not aware of the prisoner's escape; and he resolved not to destroy what he considered a good jest, by a premature disclosure of it. “I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. To the point however. “Dear John,” she whispered. Give me the keys and the light. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination. . Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek.
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