“You may not leave. Give me your hand. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. " "Is the sloop ready to sail?" asked Wild, without noticing the skipper's remark.
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