" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track. "He has fallen by the hand of Blueskin, who brought me these packets. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. You should go home today and get some rest. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. "You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. . I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite. "I shall be obliged to hang him to keep him company. Her answer was not quite ready.
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