For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. ” “Be very sure that you do,” Anna said slowly. . Now what I want you to feel is this. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling.
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