Whenever she came upon the obliterated word and paused, her father would say: "Faith. 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. He and her father shook hands manfully. He will wish to have his fears laid to rest. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Melusine whirled.
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