Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. He groped her buttocks. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. Sanguine they were not. “No, no, no. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind.
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