Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. His age was not far from fifty. ’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. "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. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him.
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