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It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. “What is going on between you two?” Lucy asked. “I may seem unduly— anxious. I know he is dead. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty.
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