Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence.
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